The Breaking of a First Class Snob
by YouCantGetThereFromHere
Summary: Young Jack Sparrow fanfic to fit inbetween chapters 3 and 4 of Book 1, A Coming Storm. Jack didn’t want Fitzwilliam on his ship in the first place, and perhaps a filthy old pirate boat isn’t the perfect place for a young lord after all. Or is it?


Disclaimer: Anything related to Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney and I am making absolutely no profit from this.

Notes: The characters are NOT my own, but characters from the "The Young Jack Sparrow" books. And also, this is my first proper fic and I'm very, very proud of it. :)

The Breaking of a First Class Snob

- - - - -

The dark of night slowly stretched above the turquoise water of the Caribbean, leaving the sky in a faint pink hue where the sun had been. It enveloped the only boat to be seen on the still ocean, drifting with its one mast hopefully raised, but to no avail. Her sails slack, the Barnacle, along with her crew of three, could do nothing but float like a nutshell and wait for a wind.

Her crew, consisting of the three youths Arabella, Jack Sparrow and Fitzwilliam P. Dalton III, wasn't too worried. When they had left Tortuga the day before, the weather had not been promising at all - wind and rain and the occasional thunder had lingered over the pirate haven. As only one of them had ever sailed before, they were glad of the calm for now.

Besides, their empty tummies were, for the moment, far more important. Arabella, having only recently given up her occupation as barmaid to go to sea, and as the only girl feeling in charge of mealtimes, had served each of them a portion of ship's biscuit and cold roast pork which she had commandeered from the Faithful Bride's kitchen the night before.

"You know, Bell, you really should have brought rum," Jack commented as he merrily chomped on a piece of pork, both him and the barrel he sat on swaying.

Fitzwilliam, who had his food delicately spread out on a handkerchief so not to leave it lying on the filthy deck, looked up at their 'captain' with slight disdain. "Do not speak with your mouth full," he scolded and broke a bite-sized piece off his biscuit.

"I could steal food from the kitchen unnoticed, but rum would have got me in a lot of trouble," Arabella said, ignoring Fitzwilliam. "Besides, I don't even like it." She grimaced at the memory of stinking men yelling to her for more rum at the Faithful Bride. Never again, she hoped.

"Nor me," Fitzwilliam agreed and smiled up at Jack triumphantly. "You are outnumbered, Jack Sparrow." He leaned against the mast comfortably and drank water from a fine silver cup he had brought.

Jack frowned for a moment, then his expression brightened and he raised a finger, his last piece of biscuit in hand. "But think! If we had rum, we could celebrate our newfound freedom! Like... like..." The frown returned to his forehead.

"Like pirates?" Fitzwilliam suggested, sounding smug.

Arabella pulled a face. "I really don't think so. I've had enough of pirates to last me a lifetime."

"Bah," answered Jack. "You two just don't know what's good for ya. You don't have to be a pirate to drink rum! They do in the Navy, I know. And I still rest my case; how else are we to celeb -aah!"

"Oh, Jack!" Arabella sat up quickly to try and hold him, but missed.

While flailing with his one hand, Jack had been holding on to the rope holding up the mast with the other. As soon as he had let go of the rope, the barrel he had been precariously sitting on had tipped over and Jack had dropped face first onto the deck, their only water barrel rolling from the one side of the boat to the other and back.

Fitzwilliam dived for the barrel and barely managed to keep it from rolling over the side, at the same time covering himself and his fine trousers in sludge that months of rain had left on the carelessly beached boat.

He stood and placed the barrel within a roll of rope where it would be safe from falling over again, then glared at the other boy angrily. "That was careless! And look what I've done to my clothes!"

Jack, more used to seafaring life and abrupt movements on a ship, had quickly recovered from falling and both he and Arabella smirked at the young earl-to-be. They made no effort to hide their obvious amusement.

"May I ask what you find amusing about this?" Fitzwilliam asked, growing even angrier. "We could have lost our only supply of water!"

"Look what I've done to my clothes!" Jack snickered, imitating the posh English accent almost perfectly and making Arabella laugh out loud. "Our only supply of water! Oh, dear, old chap, what a shame!"

"Stop it, Jack, you're killing me!" She lay on her back, kicked her legs and laughed up at the now starry sky.

Jack had stood up and was posing like the one of lords he had seen in paintings; his chest puffed out, one leg stood on the side of the boat, his arms on his hips and far from his body, so as to imitate the puffy sleeves of the time of King Henry VIII.

"Utterly careless! Irresponsible! I say!" he continued, waving a hand and pulling up his nose for the impression. "My father, the earl would have -"

"Jack." Arabella had sat up so her skirt modestly covered her ankles again, and she spoke quietly. The laughter had suddenly faded, her expression was serious. "Stop it."

"Eh? Why?" Jack looked confused. He stopped posing and turned around to see what she was looking at.

As they had been making fun, Fitzwilliam had turned his back to them. He was sitting at the very front of the boat, his knees pulled up against his body and his arms wrapped around them.

"What?" Jack whispered to Arabella. "What's with him?"

Arabella looked from Jack to the dark outline of Fitzwilliam and bit the inside of her lip. "I think he's upset," she finally decided. Jack's face showed no sign of understanding. "We were laughing about him?" she hinted and shook her head.

Jack still kept a blank expression. "And?"

"Well, go and talk to him!"

"No!"

"Fine. But don't expect me to, either." Arabella stood and began gathering what food they hadn't eaten off the deck. She surely wasn't about to comfort Fitzwilliam; it wasn't her fault he was upset in the first place. Men, she figured, were the same whatever age they were, just in different ways - they hurt each other and then expected women to sort it out for them. She had come with Jack for adventure, not to deal with fights between boys.

Having recovered two half-eaten pieces of ship's biscuit that could be kept until the next morning, Arabella therefore went below, leaving Jack alone on deck with Fitzwilliam.

With no wind and nothing else to do, Jack stood by the mast of his first ship and waited. The Barnacle gently rocked in the slight waves, the stars gleamed. Once, Jack thought he felt a breeze, wet a finger and held it up, but if there had been one to start with, it had certainly left as quickly as it had come.

When after a few minutes of heavy silence on deck Arabella hadn't returned, Jack figured she had gone to sleep, or was at least pretending to. He rolled his eyes and frowned. He didn't want to speak to Fitzwilliam alone; he didn't like him, and he didn't understand what was wrong with him. He'd only had a short laugh, what was so horrible about that?

He watched the young aristocrat, who didn't seem to move at all. He must be getting uncomfortable, Jack thought. Then, into the silence, he heard soft sobs coming from the head of the ship.

"Bloody aristos," he muttered to himself, although at the back of his mind he was beginning to feel a little guilty. Perhaps he'd been more hurtful than he had at first thought?

Jack stepped forward. He was steady on his feet even though he swayed a little with the motion of the boat, but he did so less than he usually did on land as he had adapted to shipboard life well despite his young age. He was quite proud of the fact. Still, he held on to a rope as he walked - less for security than to stop the boat from moving too much and therefore Fitzwilliam from sensing him behind him.

It worked, until his right foot got caught on an uneven timber, and he stumbled. "Bugger," he cursed under his breath, and swore again when he looked up and found Fitzwilliam watching him from where he was sitting.

"What are you doing?" The young nobleman's voice sounded thick and he had to swallow before he continued, but his tone was angry nonetheless. "I thought it was quite clear that I wanted to be alone."

"Yes, well, this ship isn't exactly big enough for anyone to be alone on it, especially when one of us carries an ego from about here," Jack gestured from where Fitzwilliam sat to the Barnacle's stern, "to there, along with a great poncy kit bag full of great poncy golden ...things. And silk clothes," he added after a short pause, then raised his chin defiantly, ready for a harsh response.

It didn't come. Fitzwilliam turned to face the sea again, his face illuminated softly by the turquoise light the water was giving off. Jack could now clearly see tears, just before they were wiped away with a filthy brocaded sleeve.

"If all you have come to do is belittle me further, you might as well go below," he said after a short silence. "I have no more need for your insults tonight, thank you."

"Look, mate, Fitzy - I wasn't meaning to be insulting. We were just having a bit of fun - passing time, as it were." Jack was visibly taken aback. He hadn't taken the other to be so sensitive. But he was a nobleman, after all.

He sat down by him, just close enough for their shoulders to touch, with his bare legs dangling off the front of the boat. Fitzwilliam made no effort to move away, but his gaze was set more firmly on the water than before.

"I understand why you said all those things," he began softly, without looking up. "You think I have no need to come with you, as I have no need for treasure." He waited a moment but when Jack didn't reply - he was apparently trying to touch the water with his big toe, - Fitzwilliam continued. "You think my life is laid out for me and I should not be risking ruin by diving headfirst into adventure, and all I am going to do is be a condescending snob and complain."

"Ah, bugger." Jack pulled himself up to sit properly on the boat again. His legs were just too short to reach the water. He brushed a stray bit of hair from his face and, when it immediately fell back in his face, undid his bandana and began retying it. "Sorry, did you say something?"

Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes and folded his arms angrily. "Never mind."

"Really, say it. I'm listening." Jack was now paying Fitzwilliam his full attention and his right arm was loosely draped across his shoulders, only to be shrugged off.

"You obviously weren't before," he said, unwilling to repeat himself and also hurt by the lack of interest.

"That's because I was busy!" Jack exclaimed, sounding almost pitiful. He reached around Fitzwilliam again, both hands flailing.

"Busy throwing yourself off the boat?"

"Having fun! Something you obviously know nothing about. Niente. Nada," Jack added, sounding satisfied with himself. He had finished tying his bandana, ridiculously low above his eyes, covering his entire forehead and stopping at the eyebrows, and was now tugging at it to shove it in the right place.

"I hardly see how drowning yourself could be in any way entertaining," Fitzwilliam replied, shaking his head, entirely unimpressed with the fact that Jack could say 'nothing' in three different languages.

"That," Jack said, a finger close to the other's face and while he looked him in the eyes intensely, "is because you just haven't got a sense of humour!"

"And you lack every ounce of responsibility, reliability and respectability." Fitzwilliam neither looked away nor did he seem at all troubled by the lack of personal space Jack was leaving him. Instead, he met his gaze haughtily, determined not to back down.

Jack frowned and shrugged, his entire person retreating from around Fitzwilliam, and sitting back with his legs crossed. "Suit yourself mate, whatever makes you happy," he said, and began picking at the threads in his sash, in a way that made it look terrifically important.

"Indeed," Fitzwilliam replied, and with an air of finality turned back to counting the waves that sloshed against the boat.

Minutes passed in which neither of them spoke nor showed any inclination to move from where they were sat. Turquoise waves were gently parted by the bow as the Barnacle moved with them, rocking the two young men as they sat quietly, one alternatively watching the waves and the stars, the other pretending to be busy.

Finally, Jack shifted. He coughed unnaturally, then, glancing up fleetingly from beneath his bandana but never moving from his position or stopping to pick at his sash, he mumbled something incomprehensible.

Fitzwilliam turned to him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said I'm sorry, all right?" Jack answered, too quickly and too loudly. "Now, let's just, forgive and forget and all that and be mates, aye?" He extended a hand to Fitzwilliam, and rolled his eyes when it wasn't instantly taken. "I mean it, honestly. I shouldn't have, well -"

Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow as Jack Sparrow had to think about formulating his apology.

"I shouldn't have done what it was I did, and I won't do it again. We're a team, eh?" He smiled awkwardly. "Savvy?"

Fitzwilliam returned the smile this time; slowly but surely. "All right. You promise not to humiliate me, and I promise to be less disapproving in the future." He took Jack's hand that was still offered to him, and shook it carefully. "Agreed?"

"Aye, luv, agreed." Jack smirked and bent down to place a kiss on the hand in his.

"Jack!" Fitzwilliam pulled his hand away, frowning. "I am not a lady!"

"You certainly aren't." Jack snickered and leaned against him comfortably, letting his legs dangle over the boat's bow again.

Fitzwilliam contemplated this for a moment, then his face took on a mischievous expression. "And I most certainly have not got a sense of humour, do I?"

"Nope. Not at all." The other boy was grinning to himself, his eyes half-closed in self-complacency.

"Then this is to be taken most seriously." He gave Jack a shove, and rather than simply pushing him away from where he was leaning against him, he pushed him off the boat and into the glowing water.

"Oy!"

Jack hit the water with a splash and bumped against the bow, then went under as Fitzwilliam leaned over to edge of the boat to see, laughing.

"I'm very sorry, Jack, it was just too tempting," he snickered, then stopped when he realized he couldn't see the other boy anymore. He frowned. Where was he? "Jack?"

Suddenly, he felt two hands on his back and before he could hold on to anything, he, too, was pushed into the water. He gasped and spluttered - his clothes were utterly ruined now - and found a familiar face holding on to the side of the ship, laughing at him.

"Jack! Good God, I am glad, I thought I might have hurt you!" Fitzwilliam said, paddling over to him with difficulty as he held on to the ship's side as well to keep his clothes from pulling him down. Jack wore only light breeches and a shirt, he could swim easily, but the heavy lining of Fitzwilliam's coat and his boots were making him heavy in the water.

Jack reached around him to hold him up, not at all worried, and laughing. "Of course you didn't, how often do you think I've been thrown off a ship, eh?" he commented, then looked around. "You, though. Why'd you jump in, fancy dress and all?"

"I -" Fitzwilliam had but a moment to look confused, before a familiar voice came from above.

"He didn't."

The pair looked up and into Arabella's grinning face. She extended a hand, which Jack left to Fitzwilliam to take first. The young lord was pulled up on deck and Jack followed nimbly, without the fabric to hold him down.

"I'm afraid my clothes really are ruined now," Fitzwilliam said, though with less sincerity than before.

"Fitzy, shut up about your clothes already." Jack snickered, wringing water out of his sash.

"Besides, it serves you right for being typical stupid boys," Arabella announced as she helped empty the classy leather boots of water. "You never manage to solve a problem without the help of a girl, even if all this means is that she has to tip you into cold water. And after all, what better way is there to celebrate our freedom than a midnight swim?"

"Aye, that is true, lassie," Jack stated, smirking and putting his arm around Arabella in the same way he had done with Fitzwilliam some minutes before.

"Don't call me lassie."

Ignoring this, Jack continued. "The problem is, luv, that you so happen to be the only one who hasn't yet celebrated their freedom in any way."

With a wink back to Fitzwilliam, Jack led Arabella to the railing.

The End


End file.
